


i'd rather have broken bones

by ringerxo



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV), The Bane Chronicles - Sarah Rees Brennan & Cassandra Clare & Maureen Johnson
Genre: 5+1 Things, ALL THE GODDAMN FEELS, Bisexuality, Bottom Magnus Bane, Breakup, Canon Compliant, Cunnilingus, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Five Stages of Grief, M/M, Makeup Sex, Masturbation, Now we're here, Post-CoLS, Power Bottom, Rough Sex, Top Alec Lightwood, Wall Sex, actual saint clary fray, all the feels, bookverse, started as a pwp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 15:19:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7227742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ringerxo/pseuds/ringerxo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magnus walks away from Alec, and grieves for him.</p><p>He loses one, but gains another.</p><p>(HAPPY ENDING I SWEAR)</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'd rather have broken bones

**Author's Note:**

> Look what is this ANOTHER PROCRASTINATION YES IT IS -hides from [iwltwgq](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6610213) readers-
> 
> This has been germinating in my head for a while. i was basically going to have magnus fuck his way through their breakup, but then clary showed up and it turned into a feels fest.
> 
> Partly inspired by The Answering Machine of Magnus Bane from the Bane Chronicles, and mentions it a bit. I haven't read the sixth book, and probably won't, so it isn't true to it. Or maybe it is. No idea.
> 
> this was rush written and isn't betaed, so forgive spelling mistakes and continuity. i might come back and edit it later.
> 
> Title is from Troye Sivan's [THE QUIET](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vykVdJDu28A).

**Denial**

_“There is no point in using the word ‘impossible’ to describe something that has already happened.” Douglas Adams_

When Magnus left, he left with style.

It was hard to drum up style in an abandoned subway station, but he managed it, stepping between the rubble and detritus as if he lived there (never. Not enough sunlight) and keeping his back as straight as he could.

He couldn’t afford to slip into some ridiculous mourning period. He couldn’t allow himself to do that, now that he had so much work on his hands. He was his own free agent now. No jumping at the first Shadowhunter call. He made his own rules.

Ignoring the feeling that Alec was still staring at him, Magnus stepped forwards, noting each footfall with detached interest, until he slipped into the shadows.

\---

He didn’t miss him. It wasn’t over. Not if the scent permeating the entire apartment was any indicator.

Magnus was in soft, silky black pajama bottoms, with a glass of whiskey in his hand. A nearly empty bottle was on the table in front of him. He took another sip from his glass and leaned his head back, savoring the smoky flavor.

It was cheap whiskey, cheaper than he was used to, but he didn’t care. The smoke was pervasive, coating his tongue and fogging up his throat. It reminded him of so many times when he had tried new things and seen them fall into flames.

He never allowed himself to look away from the flames of his failures. He would stare into them, running over the process and cataloguing it for the next time he attempted something similar. Smoke, to him, tasted like learning harsh lessons that never left him.

It tasted – he took another sip and breathed through his nose – like that night that he and Alec had made love for the first time, surrounded by candles flickering in the darkness.

(His other hand slipped down from the back of the couch to his chest.)

They were both sweating, and Alec had bit his lip, watching Magnus strip out of his suit. His mouth didn’t stay closed for long, however, since Magnus proceeded to undress him as well, divesting him of leather and cotton, shoes and leather gloves.

(He flicked his nipple, the ice in his glass rattled.)

Lying on the bed together on their sides, exchanging lazy kisses and letting their hands wander. Magnus let Alec set the pace and he let his hands wander, learning the wide, sweeping planes of Alec’s body.

(His hand slipped past his waistband, tracing the divot of his right hip.)

He had gasped, the first time Magnus had wrapped his hand around him – slowly, each finger falling into place after the other, landing on hot, smooth flesh. Alec was looking down at his cock, and then he looked up at Magnus, eyes bright and wide, a blush riding high on his cheekbones.

(Magnus was slowly fisting his own cock, his breath coming in pants.)

Magnus kissed him, hard, vicious, biting his lip, and Alec moaned into the kiss, his hands cradling Magnus’s face, then down on his shoulders, then palms flat over Magnus’s chest as Alec boldly licked into Magnus’s mouth.

(He put the glass down jerkily, slopping some over the side, and started thrusting into his own grasp.)

Magnus had flicked his thumb over the head, and Alec had come with a shout that Magnus swallowed greedily.

(He came in his pants with a whimper.)

Across time, two people blinked away the threads of their orgasm. In the past, Alec had grinned, and Magnus had bitten and licked the grin into a mouth slack with sighs and desire; in the present, Magnus’s cat eyes blinked open, and Chairman Meow yowled and darted out of the room, leaving the warlock with a mess he had no desire or energy to clean up.

* * *

 

**Anger**

_“Bitterness is like cancer. It eats upon the host. But anger is like fire. It burns it all clean.” Maya Angelou_

Pandemonium was frenzied, bodies grinding against each other and the music pounding. There was sweat in the air, and a sweet-sickly scent, and in the milliseconds between beats, one could hear the club patrons collectively panting as one.

Magnus was sitting on his throne, surrounded by beautiful people, and his eyes were smoky. His hair was spiked and glittering, his chest was close to bare, and his pants were nearly painted on, they were so tight.

He was restless. He was itching under his skin for something, for a cure for this hunger. It was making him irritable, which made him smooth, which is why, five minutes later, he was in a back alcove sucking a hickey into the neck of a strawberry-blonde woman with full hips and a penchant for violence.

“Bite me,” she moaned, and he did, being careful to not break the skin. She keened, and he snapped his fingers, making her dress fly off and crumple in the corner, leaving her naked. She wasn’t alarmed – her webbed feet indicated that she was a warlock as well, and she preened under his hungry gaze.

He wasn’t hungry, however. He was seeing Camille, mocking and ethereal, in front of him, and his vision went fuzzy. Dropping to his knees, he grasped her hips hard enough to bruise, and, ducking his head, licked a strip up her pussy.

She yelped and grabbed his head. For a moment he tensed, thinking she was about to throw him across the room, but she held him firmly to her, and he went to work, tonguing at her lips and swirling around his tongue with abandon.

“Come on,” the woman panted, her hips thrusting gently, trying to brush her clit against his tongue, “you can do better than that.”

Magnus’s vision flashed red. _You can’t control me._

He slammed her against the wall, stilling her hips, and sucked her clit into his mouth, using his teeth, tongue and lips to bring her to a shaking orgasm within moments. Right as she crested, he sucked harder and inserted two fingers into her pussy, making her climb to a screaming, surprised second orgasm – which was joined by a third when a third finger joined the first two and he started flicking her clit with only the tip of his tongue.

“Please,” she sobbed with gratitude, and he drew back, out and away, standing up and spelling away the evidence of their adventures. She was gasping, holding onto the wall for support as she regained her breath, and when she did, she shakily snapped her fingers and she was dressed again. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were bright, and she hadn’t magicked away the hickey on her neck.

“What about you?” she asked, and Magnus shook his head, partly to decline and partly to get the image of Camille to stop popping up every time she spoke.

“I don’t need anything from you,” he said harshly, and stalked out of the alcove.

* * *

 

**Bargaining**

_“Necessity never made a good bargain.” Benjamin Franklin_

This time, it was a young attendant of the Seelie Court with a message from the Queen, requesting an audience. She would have called him, or made one of her people call him, but he had incinerated his phone in a bout of rage and irritation after the infinite number of messages he had received from Alec and his cronies.

Who did he think he was, setting everyone on him? And _Raphael_?

Magnus had grudgingly let the young man in and listened to his missive. The boy’s eyes were dancing, his grin was quick, and soon enough he was trading quips with Magnus as if they had known each other all their lives.

He knew what was happening here. The boy was tall, and muscular, and had black hair and blue eyes. His teeth were straight and white, and his grin was full. The Queen knew him, and she had sent him a faerie Alec.

So when they ended up in the hallway, the boy’s legs wrapped around his waist as he thrust into him, he mentally kicked himself for falling for the Queen’s trick. However, the regret was chased by lust, as the boy’s eyes opened, and Magnus saw a dark night sky, riddled with sparking stars.

“Harder,” the boy gasped, and Magnus snapped his hips up, up, up, until he came, head on the boy’s shoulder, eyes shut tight.

And for a moment, it was Alec, weary after a day of training, clothes scattered all around them in the living room, limber and loose after Magnus had swallowed him down with abandon. It was Alec’s legs around his waist, and they were celebrating something, and their sweat was mingling, like their lives. It was Alec panting onto his nape, and soon they were going to stumble into the shower together.

Magnus opened his eyes and raised his head. The boy was looking at him with an unreadable expression – but then again, who except the faerie could read their expressions?

“I am not the one you want,” he said. “I cannot replace him.”

Magnus jerked back; Alec would have fallen into a pile of limbs and irritation, but the boy floated down and pulled his trousers back up, feet gently touching the ground. “You never were intended to replace him,” Magnus said, voice empty of emotion.

The boy turned to him and raised an eyebrow, and Magnus knew. Suddenly, a wave of weariness swept over him, and he sat down where he was, pants still at his knees. The boy disappeared, and Magnus was left alone.

* * *

 

**Depression**

_“Sometimes I think that I was forced to withdraw into depression because it was the only rightful protest I could throw in the face of a world that said it was alright for people to come and go as they please.” Elizabeth Wurtzel_

“Whoever told you that fucking your way through a breakup was a good idea never had a true love, did they.”

Magnus jumped and whirled around. Ragnor Fell was standing behind him in the shower, unaffected by the spray because he was DEAD THANK YOU VERY MUCH and this time Magnus was sure of it because if Ragnor was alive, he wouldn’t ruin his trench coat like that. (“It’s bespoke, and Oscar Wilde gave it to me.”)

“I’m not fucking—“

“Well, there was that one time where you angrily ate that woman out,” Ragnor conceded, and then slanted a look at Magnus. “That was anger if I’ve ever seen it. Misplaced resentment of Camille, perhaps?”

“At least my resentment of you isn’t misplaced,” Magnus growled.

Ragnor grinned. “True.” His smile fell, and he looked down for a brief second before meeting Magnus’s gaze again. “Darling, you’re trying too hard. Let it go.”

“I can’t let him go.” It was the first time Magnus had said it out loud, and it was the first time he believed it. The water shimmered between himself and Ragnor.

Ragnor shook his head. “Not him. Yourself.” He clucked his tongue. “You try to hold onto him as if he slipped out of your grasp, when you’re the one that let him go. You can’t forgive yourself for doing the right thing.”

“But was it?” Magnus whispered.

Ragnor nodded. “No one can take away your independence. No one can decide things for you. No one should ever be given that power without your consent.”

Someone sobbed, and it wasn’t Ragnor.

Someone sat down heavily on the floor, and it wasn’t Ragnor.

Someone felt themselves disappear into a dark void, and it wasn’t Ragnor.

* * *

 

**Acceptance**

_“For after all, the best thing one can do when it is raining is to let it rain.” Henry Longsworth Fellow_

“MAGNUS BANE, WHAT THE HELL.”

“Nice to see you too, Clarissa,” Magnus drawled, lounging on his sofa with a glass of wine. He took a closer look at her and chuckled. “Judging by how you’re looking at me, I should be in a swivel chair, with Chairman Meow in my lap.”

“If you weren’t so broken up about Alec,” she shot back, “you would have already arranged it.”

His face morphed into a scowl, and he dropped the glamour on his eyes. Clary didn’t flinch; she had faced angels, demons and a particularly smug Seelie Queen. Cat eyes weren’t going to deter her.

“You’re an idiot, Magnus,” she said.

“How would you feel if you had you put your trust into someone who ignored what you wanted?” Magnus asked calmly, his yellow eyes the only sign he wasn’t really calm. “If you were connected, and you were in love, and they just—“

“Acted as if your wants and needs didn’t matter?” she finished his sentence. “Went against basic rules of decency and did things that affected you without asking you once?”

Magnus’s eyebrows rose. He knew she was talking about Jace, about how he had been controlled by Sebastian’s rune. She had thrown in her fate with his, accepted the charade, just to save him.

“I know a thing or two about sacrificing my basic beliefs for someone I love,” she said, and there was a brittle note to her voice that chilled Magnus. “It won’t leave me alone.” She hugged herself, and for a brief moment Magnus wondered what else had happened with Sebastian, with Jace, but he brushed the curiosity away.

“So why are you pushing me?” he asked.

“Because you’re both suffering,” she said simply.

He looked at her for a long moment, his gaze steady, and she threw up her hands. “What?” she exclaimed.

“Just because I’m suffering, doesn’t mean I need to let Alec back in,” he said softly. “Obviously, I’m suffering.”

“And so is he.”

Magnus waved his hand in her direction. “I don’t doubt it. And not because I have an inflated sense of self—well, not only because of that,” he amended, and as he went on, his voice got softer.

“I love him, and he loves me. But we can’t—it can’t go on.” Magnus was at a loss for words. He was speaking in clichés, which meant he really couldn’t articulate, so he just kept quiet, the wine in his glass rippling with the slight tremors that ran through his hands.

Clary stared at him, and abruptly sat down on the floor, folding her legs under her. Chairman Meow jumped into her lap, and she absently began petting him.

“There was a brief few hours,” she said slowly, “that Jace was himself again, in that apartment. He had been in a fight, and someone cut through his rune, and he was himself again. And in that moment, after I had been with Sebastian and seen how he worked, how he shaped reality, I believed in Jace again. Because he was himself.

“But then Sebastian repaired the rune. And even though I knew the jig was up, and even though he knew I knew, he carried on. But that glimpse of Jace, of how hard he was fighting, gave me hope.”

“Touching story, biscuit, but what does it have to do with Alec?” Magnus interrupted her.

“You’ve seen Alec’s bad side,” Clary said, looking down at Chairman, who stretched and purred. “You’ve seen his good sides. And you know, as well as everyone else, that Alec is a Shadowhunter.”

“Really? I had no idea.”

Clary ignored his sarcasm and continued. “He grew up with very black-and-white conceptions of justice, of relationships and power. He feels small, compared to you. And when approached with a chance to return balance to the relationship, he almost took it.”

“But that’s not how relationships work,” Magnus said, now clutching his glass, hard, thankful that it didn’t crack. “They aren’t a power play. They’re—they’re different.”

“Yes,” Clary said, and then looked up to hold Magnus’s gaze, “you and I know that, but Alec doesn’t. Just like he hasn’t seen Ghostbusters, he hasn’t learned any value systems except the Shadowhunter one, which leaves much to be desired when it comes to love.

“So expecting him to know is a bit presumptuous, Magnus. And I think…”

“That he deserves another chance?” Magnus completed her line, and chuckled. “I don’t know, Clary. You paint a rosy picture. I wish it were so. But I’m not going to willingly march down to the Institute and place myself in Shadowhunter hands, again.”

“What will convince you, Magnus?” Clary said, frustration lacing the edges of her voice. “What—“

“It’s up to Alec,” he said, and his eyes reverted back to their glamoured state. “Now—“ and here he put his glass down, weaved a portal to the Institute, and pointed at it, “Go.”

Clary got up and looked down at him, and for the first time since he had walked away from Alec in that subway station, Magnus Bane felt five inches tall.

Without saying a word, she walked through the portal. For a moment, looking after her, Magnus thought he could see Alec there, arms crossed over his chest, but then the portal closed and Magnus was left to grapple with what Clary had said.

* * *

 

**Loss**

_“Your absence has gone through me_   
_Like thread through a needle._   
_Everything I do is stitched with its color.” W. S. Merwin_

He didn’t even need to ask who it was before he opened the door.

He was there, with his hands shoved in his pockets, wearing a soft brown suede jacket and dark jeans. No combat gear—no, scratch that, there was the outline of a seraph blade in his pocket and if Magnus knew Alec well enough, the stele was tucked into his jacket somewhere.

But he wasn’t on his way to anywhere to kill a demon. He was just here for… this, apparently.

Magnus let go of the door and crossed his arms. “Hello, Alexander,” he said, keeping his voice as even as possible.

“Magnus,” Alec said, and then closed his mouth, eyes roving over Magnus, as if he was trying to study him for a pop quiz.

They stood there silently. Neither knew what to say.

“Can I come in?” Alec asked.

Magnus considered quipping back (“Oh, so now you ask me?”) but he silently took a few steps back, allowing Alec to slip into the apartment while closing the door behind him.

“I’m not very good at this part,” Alec immediately said, turning to face Magnus, hands back in his pockets. “At the talking. But I rehearsed with Izzy and Clary.”

“Not Jace?” Magnus couldn’t help but asking.

Alec grinned for a brief moment. “We tried, but it was all innuendoes.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Magnus said with a grin.

“But I would,” Alec answered, and straightened up a bit. “Because I’m here to apologize.”

Magnus’s eyes softened. “Darling—“

Alec shook his head. “Don’t call me that until I’m done,” he said. “I need to remember what I practiced.” Magnus opened his mouth, and Alec held out a finger to silence him. He was a few feet away, but Magnus could almost feel it hovering over his lips.

“I should have spoken to you,” Alec began. “This relationship has two people in it, and only one person making decisions like that isn’t okay.” He cleared his throat. “This next part was Clary’s idea, and Izzy wanted me to let you know that she opposes it being mentioned. But I don’t think it was fair of you to expect me to know that.”

Magnus didn’t move at all. Alec looked at him, trying to read his face, and then continued, losing some of the confidence.

“I, uhm… It’s your life, and I want to be in it, well, part of it. I want your—“ He stuttered, cleared his throat, looked up at the ceiling, and then looked down at his feet. “I want you, Magnus,” he said, and then looked up at Magnus. His cheeks were on fire, but his eyes were wide and honest. “I love you. I’m sorry. I’ve learned the hard way. I’m… sorry.”

They kept looking at each other, and then Magnus softly asked, “Is that it?”

Alec nodded. “Should I have said anything else?” he asked, worried.

Magnus shook his head. “No, darling. Not another word.”

Alec perked up when he heard Magnus’s endearment. Magnus couldn’t help but grin.

“I lost you in that subway station,” he said. “The minute I turned around, I lost you. And I mourned, in my own depraved way.” Alec didn’t flinch, but his gaze hardened a bit. Magnus rushed on. “But I haven’t lost you, because to lose you would have killed me.

“I lost the Shadowhunter,” Magnus said softly, and his arms dropped to his sides. “I lost the mysterious and fascinating young man who I slowly coaxed out of his shell, who broke me and put me back together with ruthless efficiency.”

He took a deep breath, and continued. “I lost an illusion. Because separating the Shadowhunter from Alec Lightwood is impossible. But that illusion that I lost opened my eyes. And I realized that the illusion was the hook that pulled me into…” Magnus gestured between them. “This.”

“What’s this?” Alec asked.

“Us, this. Relationship. This world, where only you and I exist. This love. I can’t hate the illusion,” Magnus said, “because it brought me to you. But I can’t carry on loving the illusion.”

Alec’s face fell. “I’m not an illusion,” he said.

Magnus shook his head. “You’re not,” he said. “That’s what I’m trying to say.”

“Then just say it,” Alec said.

Magnus threw his arms up. “Fine! No finesse for you, Lightwood. No class. Gods. It’s like you retained nothing.” His hands dropped and he looked at Alec, and said, slowly and clearly, “I forgive you. I apologize for cutting you off. But from now on, no power plays, no secrets, no hiding.”

“Honesty,” Alec nodded, and Magnus shook his head.

“Trust, my darling. We have to trust each other.”

Alec stared at him, and then nodded. At that moment, a new Alec Lightwood stepped towards Magnus. A new man looked down at him, and a new man leaned down and claimed Magnus’s lips with his own.

It was like coming home.

Magnus let his mouth fall open with a sigh, and when Alec’s hands slipped down to his hips, Magnus didn’t need any prompting to wrap his legs around Alec’s waist, allowing the taller man to carry him to his bedroom while he nibbled on Magnus’s bottom lip.

They flowed from one moment to the next, as if they weren’t relearning each other. Magnus was lowered onto the bed, and then Alec was looking at him with those eyes, and then someone was sucking a hickey into the other’s neck, and then Magnus was tracing Alec’s faded stamina rune with his fingers, and Alec moved his hand away so he could retrace it with his stele.

After that, it was a blur of tears, of voices, of cries and pants. The world shuddered back into focus only when Magnus sat back on his haunches, hovering above Alec’s thighs, and said, “I want you to fuck me, Alec.”

“Are you sure?” Alec gasped. Magnus nodded, and with a snap of his fingers his ass was slicked.

“Just do it,” Magnus breathed, dropping the glamour from his eyes. “I’m ready.”

“I don’t know how,” Alec breathed, panic seeping into his eyes. “But I want to.”

Magnus slid forwards and slipped his palm into Alec’s, lacing their fingers together. “You’ll be fine,” he said. “We’ll do it together.”

Alec nodded, and watched as Magnus instructed him. He held his cock and his breath caught as Magnus leaned up and then moved back, onto Alec, hissing as the head nudged in and stretched him.

“Are you okay?” Alec asked, and Magnus nodded. His thighs were shaking, and Alec moved his hand to smooth it over Magnus’s thighs, wordlessly offering support.

It had been awhile since Magnus had to control himself like this. Alec had always transported him, with his naïveté and charm, his readiness to learn, and Magnus had always reveled in their intimacies; now, he was with a man who was his equal, who was new and known, and it was taking his breath away.

He sunk down until Alec was fully inside him, and let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Alec was still holding his hand, his grip tight, and Magnus pulled it up to kiss his knuckles. “Hello,” he whispered against them, eyes glistening, and began moving, never letting go of Alec’s hand.

Stamina rune notwithstanding, Alec found it hard to keep his hips from jerking up to meet Magnus. They were both panting, their skin bearing the sheen of exertion, and words of love were tumbling from Magnus’s lips, in a variety of languages. Alec didn’t—couldn’t—say anything, so he wrapped his free hand around Magnus’s cock and began pumping it.

Magnus felt as if he was floating towards the edge of a waterfall. He could see Alec looking down to where Magnus’s hips were undulating, unable to decide if to thrust into Alec’s grasp or back onto Alec’s cock—and then he looked up, and his gaze met Magnus’s, and Magnus tipped over the edge, coming with a wordless scream over Alec’s chest.

Through the haze, he could hear Alec shout and feel him come inside him. He stilled his hips and draped himself over Alec, tucking his face into his shoulder as he caught his breath.

“You won’t be able to catch your breath like that,” Alec said between taking deep lungfuls of air in. Magnus nuzzled into Alec’s neck and took a deep breath, and then blew out a stream against Alec’s ear.

“I’m fine like this,” he murmured, then turned his head a little to meet Alec’s eyes. They were peaceful, clear, and glittering.

“I’m fine like this,” he repeated, and Alec smiled.

Welcome home.

FIN.

 


End file.
